My Story, My Life
by call.me.alex
Summary: Ashley's POV. She's still technically in the closet. As a senior, she never told Spencer how she felt. They're no longer friends. Now that things aren't they way she wishes they were, she's merely trying to move on and start over. NO LONGER A ONE SHOT!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this is another one shot. It's in Ashley's POV. To all those that read my other one shot "To Die With Pride," I might add more, so just be aware of that. Uhm, okay, so again, reviews are cool, but its whatev's to me. Enjoy guys. Oh, and btw, the 8****th**** grader is Spencer, and the crush from 9****th**** grade is just a random girl basically. Lol **

**My Story, My Life**

So it's like this. You watch her from afar, and your heart skips a beat every time she's near. You smile whenever she does, and you cry when she does. You keep it to yourself, these things you feel. You know you can never tell her, it'd probably scare both of you. So you keep it to yourself. You tell yourself that you'd rather be her friend, than her nothing at all.

You grow up your whole life thinking that this is all wrong, that what you're feeling isn't right. Like when you were ten, and you asked your mom about the two men holding hands. She told you that they were faggots. When you asked what that meant, she told you that "God hated faggots and dykes." Of course at ten, you had no idea what these words meant. You just knew that you didn't want God, or your mother for that matter, to hate you.

You never really questioned things again until you reached 8th grade. You met someone. Not just anyone, but someone you quickly learned to trust. Someone who'd be there for you for years to come. She'd laugh at your jokes; make you feel wanted and even loved at times. She'd become your best friend. She'd bring out the person you hid from the world. She'd make you feel free. And one night, you'd sleep and dream of her. You'd wake up and write a story. A story of a dream you had and never understood. So you wrote it. And you'd read it, over and over. Just trying to grasp the meaning. What those words meant to you. What they might mean to someone else somewhere down the road.

One day, in 9th grade, you'd write a different story. One that had nothing to do with a dream you had, but one you'd pray for. One about the future, about love and happiness. One day, your mother would find it while you were at school. She'd sit you on your bed and ask questions for hours until your eyes could no longer feel any moisture. She'd ask "are you gay?" and you'd tell her "no" over and over, because you'd know what would happen if you even think of uttering the word "yes." You'd be kicked out, not literally, but emotionally. She'd stop loving you, and say something like "God is disgusted with you." And later that night, you'd cry still, until sleep finally over takes you. You'd rip up all your work. Every story, every word, every _dream._

The next time you'd write, would not be for another two years. You'd meet other friends, and lose old ones. You'd lose the friend that had once opened you up, and you'd close like a book once again. You'd keep more secrets than ever before. You go online, and meet people just like you. People who are lost, and want answers just like you. But most of all, you'd question your own existence. You'd wonder why it was that you felt the things you did, and why God would tell you that you were wrong. You'd try to, to be what your mother wanted. You look a little harder at guys, but it'd never seemed to work. It'd make you cry, it'd make you cut yourself. Not a lot, but just enough so that you'd know it wasn't worth it. You'd think about killing yourself, but you'd never want to. There were things you knew you wanted to do. _Dreams_ you still had.

Then you'd spend you're whole summer before your senior year, trying to start over. You'd find people who lived else where and immediately introduce your self as who you thought you were: Alice, 17 year old lesbian. Although it wasn't your name, you wanted it to be. Your real name no longer suited you. You were now different. For once, you were trying to put all your secrets out there.

You met a girl online who lived in a different state. You talked to her almost every day. You'd talk to her about escaping your world, and going far away, and just being your self. You'd talk to her about love, first dates, marriage, music, and college. You'd rant about how you wish gay rights were a bigger deal to everyone. You'd laugh about episodes of The L Word, or Scrubs. You'd send each other your work, your stories, your poems. You'd tell her about your friends and family. And she'd tell you how much she loved having you as a friend, and you'd grin so big that your face would hurt. And you started to like her. You never told her, and chances are, you'd never tell her, but it didn't matter. You still went to bed smiling because for once, you were truly happy. You were truly _free_, and you no longer cried.

So that leaves you to where you are now. You walk these halls, along side the other seniors. You don't exactly smile the way you used to, but you still smile. You smile for different reasons these days. You smile because you know you're still hiding, but you know that as soon as you go home and open your computer, you're "you" again. You miss the girl that opened you up in 8th grade. You miss the girl you had a crush on last year. You miss the joy you got from the simplest beauty in the world, but everything always come back at night, while you sit on AIM and talk to your new friend.

It all changes when I become Alice, 17 year old lesbian.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So this was supposed to be a one shot, but a few people wanted me to continue, so maybe it'll be like 3 or 4 parts, or something. I'm not entirely sure. Anyways, I hope you guys like it. Thanks for the reviews. **

**My Story, My Life pt. 2**

You started to hate taking that pottery class the second she walked in. You two hadn't even spoken in about a year. And even before that, the only form of communication between you was through a simple composition notebook. You wrote in it day in and day out, hoping—no _praying_—that your friendship would somehow "re-spark." Writing in that folder of paper reminded you of those good days, back in 8th grade. Those days that you two used to laugh and smile every moment you were together. You remember that one time she tripped and hurt her leg really bad. She was in the 7th grade, while you were still in the 8th. You helped her up, only after punching the kid that caused her to fall in the first place. You remember how your skin tingles when she hugged you. You remember how she blushed when you said that her hair still looked pretty, even though it was a messed up. You missed that. All of it. Now, that she sits a few seats away, you hate how things have turned out.

She calls roll everyday, and everyday, she _doesn't_ call your name. At first, you used to wonder why, but eventually, you kind of just knew why. It's was like she just _knows _when you were there or not. It feels like she doesn't even want to hear your voice, and it kills you a little more everyday. You curse yourself for waiting until senior year to take that "art" credit you need to graduate. You ask why you couldn't have just taken another music class or something else instead. Just _anything_…to keep from having to see her blonde hair and blue eyes, everyday.

You drive home everyday and lock yourself in your room and you play your music so loud the non-existent neighbors can hear it. It's what you do everyday, and your mom never even questions it. She gladly sends you to therapy every Tuesday, and yet nothing ever gets to her: that you're not the same little girl you used to be. She's so clueless. She has _no _idea who Alice is. She just sees this whole "moping around" thing as some teenager phase, but you know otherwise. You know what you're feeling is _real._ You open your computer, and immediately smile, because Tally is on.

You met her on some chat site, and you got her AIM. You talk to her every day, and she never makes you mad, sad, or anything along those lines. She's just like you, only minus the "I like girls" part. She's just as _lost_ as you. And as much as you hate being lost, you thank whatever God that's out there, for letting someone else be lost along side with you.

**guitarZipo2: **so…how was ur date?

**aLtHEgAL17: **lol. Which one? The one that didn't happen last Friday night, or the one that didn't happen the week before?!

**guitarZipo2: **okay okay, jeez, lay off the sarcasm

**aLtHEgAL17: **lol. NEVER!!!

**guitarZipo2: **I'm bein serious Alice

**aLtHEgAL17: **oh, that _date_

**guitarZipo2: **lol. Yeah, that _date_

**aLtHEgAL17: **tell me again why were calling this thing a "date"

**guitarZipo2: **uhm, because it's probably the only time you'll be able to use that word

**aLtHEgAL17: **har har. Thannnkkksss**.**

**guitarZipo2**: ok ok, seriously now. How was it?!

**aLtHEgAL17:** idkTally, my old therapist was a lot less creepy looking

**guitarZipo2: **lol. You're only saying that cause you thought she was hot

**aLtHEgAL17: **yeah, so?

**guitarZipo2: **so, just give him a chance

**aLtHEgAL17: **yea yea. I'll try

"Ashley," there was a slight pause. "There's a phone call for you."

_Who could that be?_

"Okay, I'll be right there."

**aLtHEgAL17: **hey, I g2g. Someone's on the phone

**guitarZipo2:**__k. bye

**aLtHEgAL17: **yeah, bye.

I closed my computer and raced down the stairs. When I got there, I nervously brought the phone to my ears.

"Hello?" I asked. My heart was racing. No one—and I mean NO one ever called me anymore.

"Ashley?" was asked weakly. My heart dropped.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So this is part three and I know they'll be at least one or two more parts. Hope everyone enjoys it. I'm sorry if any of this is confusing, but I think by the end of the whole story, it'll all make sense. Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing. I love you guys! **

**My Story, My Life pt. 3**

"_Ashley?" was asked weakly. My heart dropped._

"Yes?" I asked, in just the same way.

"It's Spencer."

"Spencer?" I was suddenly filled with fury. "What the _fuck_ do you want?"

"I just…uh, I shouldn't have called."

"You _think_?"

"You don't have to be so harsh!"

"Let me think. How else am I supposed to act? You haven't spoken to me in a year! We've been in a class together for what, 4 months now, and you pick _now _to call me?"

I could hear her sobs through the phone and for about a second, I contemplated whether to apologize or not. I finally decided that I didn't owe her one an apology.

"Spencer, lose this number," I said, then pushing the "end" button on the phone. I sat on a stool in the kitchen, listening to the phone ring over and over again. By now, my mom was already out of the house, and probably on the way to yet another "business trip." I sat and waited for the phone to stop. She called a total of five times, not including the first time. By the time she stopped, I had jumped into the pool and was doing laps until my limbs went numb.

You wake up every Saturday, and you thank whatever higher being exists, that you have two days of nothingness before having to go back to the world you hate so much. It wasn't always like that. You remember those days as a freshman, where you had so many good friends. Those days where you actually laughed. It's been so long since you've laughed, that you've actually forgotten what it may even sound like.

Now, as the alarm says 10 AM, you wonder how different your life would be if you could like guys instead. It makes you want to hate God sometimes, but you know it wouldn't make a difference. And although you've gotten at least 8 hours of sleep, you're still unbelievably tired. You tired of this fucked up life that you're being forced to live.

The only thing that keeps you going most of the time is your music. You used to be in band at school, and even guitar class, but you quit both right before junior year. You never stopped playing though. You look over, and in the corner of your room sits a worn out red and black acoustic guitar. It's not that you can't afford a new one; it's that you don't _want _a new one. As much as it hurts to look at it, you still keep it because she gave it to you. Back when she was your best friend. Back when she was your world.

You get out of bed and look yourself in the mirror. Then you glance at picture that sits on the dresser. Years ago, this picture would've made you smile. You and Spencer, in your dorky marching band uniforms, smiling because you just won a football game. It was a rare event at your school.

You look so different now. Back then, you never matched. You never really _cared _about how you looked. Now, things are different. You put all of your mom's money in the most expensive clothes you can find. It's not like either of you care. You both just "put up" with each other, and as soon as your 18th birthday comes around, you know she'll just kick you out.

You're now sitting by the pool, with a notebook and a pen. It's how you spend most Saturdays: by the pool, writing lyrics that no one will ever hear. You once wanted to play for the world; you once wanted others to love your music. Now however, you don't know what you want. You've already gotten into college, and you can thank your mother's money for that, but you still don't even know what to major in. Maybe you'll just study something like English literature, and finally write that book you've wanted to write. But for now, you sit by the pool, writing those songs you wish someone would hear.

"So, why don't you tell me a little about yourself?" Dr. Howard asked.

"Uhm, isn't that what we did last week?" I ask, in confusion.

"Yes, but you told me things that your mother could've told me. I want to know just _who_ you are."

He gave me a cheesy smile, and I couldn't help but grimace. This guy gave me the creeps. God, why did my old therapist have to move?!

"Uhm, well let's see. Where exactly am I supposed to start?"

"How about you tell me when and why you stopped hanging out with kids from school?"

"Well, I guess it really all started sophomore year. My best friend was slowly becoming more and more distant every day, and others were starting to treat me differently. Like somehow, I had become less interesting to them. And then--"

"Okay, wait right there. You're best friend. How about you tell me about her? Your mother told me her name was Spencer."

"Uhm, look, that's someone I didn't even talk about with my old therapist. I really don't think I'm ready to tell _you._"

"Ashley, I'm just here to help you."

"Whatever, but I say what I want, and don't pressure me to give details about shit I don't wanna talk about."

He shook his head and smiled again. _Ugh, quit that!_

"I'm okay with that."

"Okay, well I guess I might as well start at the beginning. We met when I was in 8th grade, and she was in the 7th…."

You sit there for the whole hour, just telling him about her, and he attentively listened. You tell him about your laughs, your cries, and the one and only time you fought. When you spoke to her last and told her how bad of a friend she was becoming. And while this is all happening, your mind can't help but wander back to the phone call you got from her yesterday. Part of you wanted—no needed to know why she had called in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

**My Story, My Life pt. 4**

You sit in your room, hating that your two days of peace is already done…yet again. You know that you'll have to start getting ready in only 4 hours, and yet you still can't bring yourself to actually sleep. You look over at your alarm, and it read 2 AM. No matter how much your mind is saying "no," your heart is making you reach for your cell phone. You flip through your contacts, until it reaches a number you haven't called or texted in so long. So long, that you're kind of shocked you actually still have it. You know that if you were to text her, she'd probably respond. One thing you always shared was the fact that you stayed up, into the wee hours of the morning.

"Hey. Are you still awake?" I texted.

"You know I am. Why'd you hang up on me like that?" she replied.

"I think you know the answer to that Spencer."

"Yeah, but I just needed to talk to you."

"About what?!"

"Can we do this in person, or at least over the phone?"

"Why? What difference would it make?"

"Not much of one, but I just feel like I owe it to you."

"Just know, this doesn't change anything.

You lay in bed, and you feel like you might actually be able to fall asleep now. It's now 2: 20 and you feel exhausted. The overwhelming effect the past few days had on you was finally starting to set in. You shut your eyes, and pray that your mom lets you skip school tomorrow.

**guitarZipo2: **So, you two are actually gonna talk?

**aLtHEgAL17: **Yeah, but its whatev's

**guitarZipo2: **Uh, no it most certainly is NOT. Hello, Alice, this is exactly what you've wanted since forever. Maybe she just wants her friend back

**aLtHEgAL17: **Yeah, maybe

**guitarZipo2: **I think you should be happy, or at least a _little _optimistic

**aLtHEgAL17: **ugh! Fine Tally!

**guitarZipo2: **Lol. Trust me. I don't think you'll regret this.

**aLtHEgAL17: **I sure hope not.

So here you are, waiting exactly where she asked you. You're leaning against your car, and it kind of makes you smile to yourself. You love this car. You put money and work into this car. You admire the artwork on it, and you laugh, because it's the one good thing your mother might've ever done. Buying her daughter a Porsche.

"Hey, thanks for being here," she said, walking closer to me."

"Yeah, course. So, where is it you want to go?"

"Uhm, the beach?"

"Is that a question, or an answer?"

"It's…uh, it's an answer."

"Okay," I said, opening my door. "Well, get in."

She quickly jogged around to the other side, and nervously got in. She sat down in the passenger seat and moved around a lot. Her gaze remained at her converses. This was how I could tell she was nervous. It was something I noticed when I first met her. It also caused her to fall, a lot. It was no wonder that she was called a klutz by most people who knew her.

When we pulled into the parking lot, I looked over at her. She was now facing the window, looking out at the ocean.

"Come on. I think I have a few blankets in the trunk," I said, turning off the car.

She simply nodded her head, and followed me.

"Okay, so tell me what's up, and don't give me any crap. Just come out and tell me the truth," I said, as we were finally sitting.

She was looking up at the sky, with her knees to her chest.

"You could always tell when I was lying, even though I never really lied to you. I can't lie to you anymore Ashley."

I looked at her, trying to figure out what that meant.

"What are you trying to say Spencer?"

"I'm trying to say," she let out a deep breathe, "That I miss you like crazy. And it's _so _selfish that I'm choosing now to tell you, but I just couldn't keep it to myself."

"What…what made you want to tell me…now?"

I was still dumbfounded.

"I…I want to tell you why, trust me, I do. I just don't think I'm ready to."

"Oh…so then where does that leave _us_?"

"Where do _you _want it to leave us?"

"I'm not entirely sure. I mean, I'd like us to be friends, but I'd just be stuck in the past, and God knows, things are just too different now."

"So then let's just start over." She held out her hand, and smiled like a 4 year old. "Hi, my name is Spencer. And you are?"

I shook my head.

"Spencer, it doesn't work that way."

"Why not?" she asked, only now dropping her hand.

"Because, you don't get to just decide when to bring people back into your life, just because it suits your mood this week."

"But that's not even what it is!"

I finally stood up, realizing that I could no longer breathe properly.

"It doesn't matter. I can't have you hurt me again. I'm already on enough medication. I'm sorry. I need to leave."

She grabbed my arm, just as I was starting to turn.

"Please Ash--"

"You don't get to call me Ash. You lost that right a year ago," I say, feeling venom flowing through my body. I could hit her at the moment. I could just scream and cuss her out, but I don't do any of these things. I'll just end up walking away, like I do in every other situation these days.

"I'm sorry," she said, her arm falling back to her side and her eyes dropping to the ground. I could tell she was crying, and although her sobs were almost silent, I could still hear them, even above the noise of the waves crashing.

You take a deep breathe, and suddenly it feels as though everything has stopped, and something pops into your head. The ocean, the moment, it all reminds you of a poem you've grown to love over the years. _Lord Bryon,_ you think, and it merely makes you smile.

_There is a pleasure in the pathless woods_

_There is a rapture on the lonely shore_

_There is society, where none intrudes, _

_By the deep sea, and music in its roar_

_I love not man the less, but Nature more..._

"Are you smiling?" Spencer asked in between sobs.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

She smiled back.

"Why?"

"Because, I think I'm starting to realize something."

"Oh yeah, and what is that?" she asked, almost smirking.

"That…I don't need you."

"What?!" she gasped.

"I don't need you. I have this while life ahead of me, and I think it's time I move on."

I started to walk away from her, and as I walk, my smile never fades. Even as I hear her yell and call my name, I never once turn around. It wasn't until I was almost at my car, that I heard something that made me freeze in my tracks.

"I'm in love with you Ashley."

You want to turn around. You really do, but you know it wouldn't make things any easier. You wonder what would happen if you turn back around and kiss her, or if you go and just tell her that you feel the exact same way. You don't though. You don't do any of this, because you know it'd never work. You don't think you could handle anymore pain.

So you just walk away, from her, but towards something else, and quite possibly, _someone _else. Who knows, maybe somewhere done the road, you'll meet again, and things will be different. Maybe someday you can at least be friends. Or maybe, you wonder if this whole thing could just merely be a dream and you'll wake up tomorrow morning, and all of this will seem kind of funny.

Either way, you know that you'll go home tonight and write about it all, just like you've done the past three years of your life. You'll sit at your desk, and open that one document that slowly grows every day. It's signed with your name, so that _everyone _know that this is your story, and you want tot be the only one to tell it, no matter how painful it might be.

**A/N: So that's it guys. Sorry if it didn't end the way you wanted it, but that's just how I saw it end. When I first started this, I knew it wouldn't have a happy ending. It's just too realistic for that. So thanks to all my fans and anyone who reviewed. I might be up for more one shots or 3/4 parters, so just keep an eyes out for 'em. Later everyone. **


End file.
